Blind
by AliceRulesMyWorld
Summary: Everyone saw it before she did, everyone. Even if they pretended they didn't. If you are a Stefan/Elena fan, definitely NOT your kind of story
1. Chapter 1

_I love Stefan_. Stefan was sweet and understanding and sensitive and he would never hurt her. Stefan she could count on. He was safe.

Damon was mysterious and dangerous in the best way, and he'd never leave her and he could never, _ever_ hurt her. Somewhere, she knew that.

_But I do not love that boy_.

"Hello, Elena," A voice said, interrupting her musings.

"What do you want, Damon?" She deadpanned.

"I was bored and you know how I love to annoy others," he smirked, taking a step closer.

"Believe me, I do." She snorted, not moving even as he stepped forward. He wasn't going to hurt her, never had he planned to.

"As long as we're clear on that." He took a final step before he was directly in front of her, half an inch between them. All either of them had to do was lean forward. "I really must be going," he said, leaving, looking as if he regretted the action. Good that he didn't she was aching for him to come back and kiss her.

_I just might love that boy_.


	2. Chapter 2

Funny story. Stefan and Damon's father had been vamped. He had come to Fell's Church. And daddy dearest had made it _very_ clear that he was visiting Stefan.

Elena thought of herself as a good friend so she'd been letting Damon stay at her house for the last few nights, and the next week, while their father was in town. She saw him crack his back and she eyed the offending chair.

"That must be hurting your back." She stated, working up to her suggestion.

"Vampire." He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal, but she could tell it was hurting him.

"Still…"

"Elena," he said as she dropped off, "I'm not exiling you to the chair."

"You wouldn't be exiling me, genius. We'd share."

He stood up slowly and walked over to the bed, lying down. "Graci," he whispered in his native tongue. He said something in Italian that she couldn't have repeated, even if she weren't afraid of butchering the beautiful words. "Means, goodnight beautiful girl." He translated before she could ask. She was going to tell him he couldn't say things like that when she was with his brother but by the time she had formulated a legit argument, he was asleep. She cuddled into him and, asleep or not, he threw an arm around her waist.

"What is going on here?" Stefan asked dangerously.

"Damon's been staying here the past few nights."

"Why?" He hissed. _Why? He had seen the whole 'Ah, Damon. I'm here to visit Stefan' scene and he wanted to know __**why Damon was here?**_

"Your father made it perfectly clear that Damon wasn't welcome. Where would you have him go?" She raised her eyebrows defiantly.

"But you're sharing a bed."

"I didn't want him sleeping in the chair and he refused to kick me out of my bed, so we compromised, get off my back!"

"Belissima Elena?" Damon muttered, "Go back to bed, will you?" he said with a trace of that Italian accent he had never lost, the one Stefan had long forgotten. Damon insisted on using Italian on several occasions. First, when he was being romantic or sweet. Second, when he didn't want her to understand what he was saying. Third, when he was cursing and ranting—because a lady shouldn't hear such words as he would use when he lapsed into Italian. She loved the sound of his voice when he spoke Italian, because she didn't have to understand the words to know what he was saying. And, even if it was coming from Damon, in a foreign language, at the oddest times, it was still nice to hear them. Stefan's eyes watched as she laid back down next to Damon, and grabbed his arm, bringing it around her again. Purely out of spite. Because she was mad at Stefan. Not because it made her feel safer. Not because it was comfortable. Certainly not because she _liked_ it. She was just mad at Stefan. Yes, she knew, she was a terrible, horrible liar. Even to herself.

"Elena," he raised his voice slightly.

"Stefan," she answered quietly but venomously, "quit with the heart attack, quit being jealous, and please _quit this room!"_

Stefan was gone.

Damon muttered something in Italian. Talking in his sleep she supposed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Elena, we're not going to Stefan's house." Damon insisted.

"It's your house, too," she offered.

"You make me laugh, Elena," he deadpanned.

"I want to meet your father." There was a hint of pleading in her voice.

"Okay. I'll see you when you get back. I'm not going Elena."

Twenty minutes later…

"I can't believe I let you talk me into going." He hissed as they walked up the sidewalk.

"Well, what can I say, I'm persuasive." She opened the door and they stepped in, which Stefan and Damon's dad heard, of course.

He shook her hand, "You must be Elena!" He smiled hugely and then, in front of God and everybody, he said to Damon, "Why don't you make yourself useful and pour us some drinks?" It wasn't a suggestion.

"Still giving orders? Ever the aristocrat, I see," he observed.

Suddenly, it was like Elena and Stefan weren't there.

"Another thing Stefan understood that you never did."

"No. What _I _never understood is why you hated me."

"You want a list?" His father said, stepping forward.

"Badly." Damon answered, matching his step.

"I could wipe out a Rain Forest, I'd need so much paper." Elena held back a gasp. If Judith talked to her this way she'd be crying.

"Well, you wouldn't want to do that. That's less birds for your son to snack on."

"Yes and my only son, if I could choose." He jabbed, trying to find Damon's weak spot.

"Finally, Mr. Salvatore," Damon stressed the name, "something we can actually agree on. If it were up to me, I would choose not to be your son."

"And then we'd both be happier. Stefan, too."

"Because I wouldn't be trying to steal his girl?"

"There's nothing of his you won't have, is there?" His father stormed.

"Well, let's see. Mother died for him, Katherine chose him over me—as if you're surprised—so I feel like maybe I'm entitled to want something he has, for a change."

"You're not entitled to anything, _Damon_."

Elena wasn't sure how she knew, but when Stefan and Damon's father called Damon by his given name, it wasn't good. Stefan knew it, too, because he slinked out of the room, like he didn't want to see what happened next. She, on the other hand, was rooted to the spot.

"Be careful, Mr. Salvatore. I might hit back this time. Elena, go see why Stefan's hiding in the kitchen." He added casually. She knew he just wanted her out of the living room for this. She did it, but stood with the door cracked, listening.

"I hope you do, boy." She pulled it open more and stuck her head out.

He swung. Damon deftly ducked it and returned quickly with a right hook—breaking the jaw bone, certainly, not that it wouldn't heal. Half a second later, Damon received a punishing blow to the nose and lashed out, kicking his father's knee out from under him.

"Last time that happened, you did it to me. Funny being on the opposite end, isn't it?"

"Not quite the same. Nobody's enjoying this." Elena could hardly believe her ears. Elena realized then why Damon was so defensive, why his walls were so thick, why his mask was so impenetrable and the answer was before her. Because in everyone's eyes—even Damon's—even his father's eyes—maybe even Stefan's eyes, and now even Elena's—Damon was second best.

"On the contrary, _I'm_ enjoying it." His father stood and faced Damon again.

"Your pride will get you killed one day, Damon." Elena couldn't let this go on any longer.

"Damon, I'm going home and you're my ride. We're leaving now."

"Elena…"

"Damon, come on." Once Damon was safe and away from his father it occurred to Elena that she hadn't even told Stefan 'hi'.

"I could've won that, Elena."

"But could you have lived with yourself for the next how many years?" Damon didn't answer, which was unusual. He really must have been shaken up by the fight. Or upset that he didn't get to fight it.

"I needed that, Elena. For all those years."

"I know," she answered quietly.

"Don't think less of me than you already do, please."

"I don't, Damon. I even think I understand."

A silence follows and she finds herself thinking, _Now this family has problems._


	4. Chapter 4

"Can we pretend that never happened?" Damon asks.

"Well," she replies, "we can. Should we?"

"I'd like to." He hedges. She knows what he means though, and she calls him on it.

"But we shouldn't?" He looks at her, expecting to see triumph in her eyes at guessing right, or perfect composure, like she was unsurprised that Damon was viewed as second best, instead he saw concern and compassion. He remembered why he was in love with Elena. She didn't judge whereas everyone else had their own opinions about Damon Salvatore. Mostly not good. Where his father acted as judge, jury, and given the opportunity, executioner, Elena acted as friend, comforter, and if he was honest with himself, only friend.

"No." He answered, having recovered. "Probably not."

She looked him over. He was no longer shaking; that was something. "Okay, let's not pretend. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" He ponders the question for a moment. "Well, everyone I know loves Stefan best and my father hates me—never did know why—I've been kicked out of my own house, reduced to staying with the girl I love who loves my brother and, if that's not enough, I've been feeling so down I haven't been able to feed. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

"I'm sorry." Elena grimaces, "Stupid question."

Rather than say any number of sarcastic answers that came to mind, he simply just said, "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"I'm sorry you lived for 18 years with it." She answers.

"Me, too." Elena wishes she knew what to say to that, knew how to make it better, but she doesn't. Instead she reaches out, puts her arms around him and says, "It's this thing called a hug-try it." At first, he stiffens, unused to positive physical contact, but then he relaxes into the hug, and wraps his arms around her as well. They stand that way for a few minutes when Elena feels something wet fall onto her shoulder and, with disbelief she realizes Damon is crying. She only holds him tighter, and closes her eyes. "It's going to be okay." She whispers. There's no reason to whisper. Aunt Judith, Margaret and Robert are nowhere to be found but she whispers nonetheless.

"Elena?" A voice roughly asked.

She opens her eyes, "Yes, Stefan?"

"What exactly are you doing?" Damon wipes his eyes and steps back away from here and Elena does the same. "You're holding onto Damon like he's trying to go kill someone. I knew you'd fall for him."

"Leave her alone." Damon interjects, threateningly, "She didn't, as you so eloquently put it, fall for me. She saw what happened and she's being a friend. She's not allowed to have me as a friend or what?"

"You're sleeping in her bed and you're hugging her."

_Oh, well,_ Elena thinks to herself, _if he's upset and I'm hugging him I must be in love with him_. The thought is so venomous she feels the sting. It's not as if Stefan has the right to tell her what to do. If he trusts her, then that should be what matters. It's not that she can't see where Stefan's coming from—she can. It's just that he can't see where she's coming from. And for her hug he's blaming Damon, which, after the day Damon has had, she's assuming won't go over well.

"Why don't you just leave?" Damon sneers at Stefan as he asks.

"Is this your house?"

"Stefan?" Elena interrupts, "Leave. If you're going to jump to conclusions and make assumptions, then you can just leave."

"You have to understand where I'm coming from, Elena." He pleads.

"Oh, I do, Stefan. But you're only looking at your side. Did you see what your father did to Damon? Did you hear what your father said? Do you realize how upset he was? No. All you realize is I was being there for a friend and that friend was Damon. It's you that doesn't understand."

Stefan jumps out the window, angrily. When Elena turns around, Damon is sitting on the bed, still morose. "What do you need?" she asks gently.

He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. "A new family would be nice." He makes an attempt at humor but means it so sincerely it only sounds sad. "And sleep."

Elena smiles and attempts to lighten the mood just a bit. "Would you like me to tuck you in?"

Damon smiles back. "I think I got it."


End file.
